I glance about, wondering where I would have hidden something up here.
A fuzzy memory sneaks in, reminding me of the time I wrote a love letter to Dawson Diego. He gave it back with a big X across the spot where he had to pick yes or no. I saved all my tears and humiliation for this spot and then hid the letter behind the wall. I turn, seeing the very spot. You had to crawl across the ladder, and only a small child would be able to make it across. It was my very first booby trap. I scoot along the ladder, not sitting on it, but am able to reach across it to the spot where the panel pushes back with ease. Clearly I never clued into the fact adults have long arms . . .
I pull a large manila envelope from the panel. It’s stuffed sort of full for something that should contain only a key.
When I open it up there is a ton of paperwork inside, all written in handwriting I don’t recognize. I don’t know what it means, but I’m guessing if I hid it, it must be important. I dig farther down, finding a key that looks nothing like a key. It’s got the handle part, but the end looks like it belongs inside a computer. I think it’s a high-tech key. It probably has a microchip in it—spies always say the word microchip like it means something. I honestly can’t say what a microchip is. I don’t even care slightly.
At the very bottom there is a letter. It’s written in my handwriting.
I don’t know who to address this to. I don’t know who will find it. A me in the future, perhaps.
My name is Andrea Olson. I have discovered my name is actually Samantha Barnes. Anyone who knows me dies. Everyone who loves me is lying. I have to write this to you because I am about to lose my memories again. Whatever you do, don’t fall for that one.
Trust no one. I made that mistake already.
There is a safe-deposit box in Turin, Italy, with some evidence in it. I went there, and before I could even get the box opened, a man tried to kill me. Something terrible is happening to me. I am covered in scars, and I don’t know who I am. There’s also a man chasing me. He says his name is Rory and he used to be my lover, but I don’t believe him. He makes my skin crawl. He keeps asking me to take him to my father’s house. If he did love me he would never ask that. Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone when you leave for the security box. Just go there alone. I made the mistake of trusting Simon, my boyfriend. He’s a liar too, and I don’t think his name is Simon. I think it’s Benjamin Dash, but I’m not sure. Whatever is in that box, he wants it. So does Rory. I wanted to find it and destroy it, so I could be free of them all.
I have no advice for you except to go and destroy what’s in that box. I have lost this battle. I am here to say good-bye to my aunt, but she isn’t here. I remember her and this house. I remember so many things that make no sense.
I hope you remember me!
I don’t know what to think of it. Clearly I didn’t get the whole story from Derek last time. I just panicked and went rogue.
The only intriguing part of the entire letter is that Rory and I have met before. He knew I was on the run with Derek? So his pretending to see me for the first time in years was all an act.
Of course it was. He acted so nonchalant when he met me. He didn’t run to me and hug me. He entered that office and was as cool as a cucumber. He was expecting me to be alive. He was expecting me to be with Derek.
I feel like I have more questions than anything. But I have one answer that I didn’t before. I need to go to the safe-deposit box alone. I contemplate opening the ladder and climbing down that way, but there’s a bad feeling inside me. My eyes glance at the window I always left from. It’s awfully high up, but I know I’ve done it many times.
Deciding it’s better to be scared of heights than it is to be caught by the two men in the sedan out front, I open the back window to the attic and climb onto the roof. Clinging to the envelope, I refuse to look anywhere but the place my feet have to go. I hurry down the back roof, hopping the two feet down onto the awning over the back deck. From there I walk to the end of it and jump. My feet tingle from the four-foot jump, and I could throw up if I gave it a second thought, but my heart is racing. I have brought the magical key of doom into the real world. The key everyone wants is right here in my hand. If I get caught, I am screwed.
I hurry through the yards back to the car, fighting the terrible feeling I have that I am making a giant fucking mistake.
Getting to Italy isn’t hard. Getting out of the United States without Rory finding me is. I use the passport and credit card Derek gave me when we were going to Austria.
I choose JFK as my airport, assuming it’s so busy they won’t be looking for me there. I catch the red-eye out, completely exhausted and, oddly enough, comfortable with sleeping on a jetliner.